Hot Summer
by HunSher
Summary: Hamish and Berneen want to go to the pool on a hot summer afternoon. Sherlock is not entirely satisfied with John's idea of a swimsuit.
1. Chapter 1

„Oh, come on, Sherlock! It's gonna be fun!", said John as he was digging restlessly in one of the drawers in their bedroom.

„I'm not so sure about it…", replied Sherlock, still staring at what John was doing.

„Well, if you're not willing to do it for me, then do it for the kids, please." John stopped and held up what he was looking for. A pair of dark blue Speedos with lighter blue patterns in his right hand and in the other hand a smaller pair in emerald green.

„I'm not putting _those_ on, not even for the sake of the kids". Sherlock's voice was flat, a bit sulky.

„I'm not arguing about it. You'll put them on and you'll come with us to the pool. It's unbearably hot and the kids are bustling to get out of the house.", John said in a commanding tone.

„I'd like to see you make me", Sherlock answered with a smug smile.

"I'm not fighting with you over it. God, you're supposed to be an adult. Put these on" John tossed the blue Speedos to Sherlock "and get ready. I know you hate changing clothes in public places. We're leaving in 20 minutes." John looked at Sherlock then took a glance at the swimwear in Sherlock's hands and left the room. "I'll help the kids with their packing" he said as he was climbing the stairs.

Sherlock couldn't quite believe that John was making him do this. He was supposed to know how he hated going out in the sun and even more than that, how he hated putting on swimwear. Sherlock's skin was incredibly sensitive and could burn very easily. Sherlock, though generally self-confident, was less so when only a slip of fabric was covering his genitals. John had never understood this and said that Sherlock had a body worth killing for (the pale white skin, those cheekbones, the fragile looking but muscular torso) but Sherlock didn't believe him.

„We're ready here, Sherlock. Do you need some help in there?", shouted John from the living room, which was also ringing with the sound of their children's laughter.

„No, thank you. I'm doing just fine on my own", said Sherlock and put those _damn_ things on with a heavy sigh. He looked at his reflection in the mirror, his lips twitching in disgust as he put the rest of his clothes on quickly to cover the Speedos.

He grabbed the bag with the towels in it and went to the living room. John was in the kitchen putting a bottle of water and four cups in his rucksack. Hamish looked as annoyed as Sherlock himself, but little Berneen seemed on the verge of jumping around the room in happiness.

Hamish was very much like Sherlock, going by the looks. He wasn't as tall as Sherlock was in his teens but Hamish hadn't hit puberty yet. He was really frustrated about his height, he said he's not taken seriously because of his short. He hoped this summer will end with him growing 10 centimeters. At least. But nothing of that happened yet. Of course, he knew he wouldn't see the difference but he wished he could match his height to his intimidating intellect. At the age of 10 it wasn't as intimidating as he thought but he still could verbally smash them.

Berneen, on the other hand, couldn't care less about height and all this. She didn't pay too much attention to her looks. Not that she didn't like clothes and shoes. They just weren't so important. She loved to run around in the back garden, climb trees and play hide-and-seek. And for those activities fancy, girly, pinky and crinkly clothes just weren't suitable. So she always chose comfortable clothes in which she looked cute. Her dads always told her that. And there was this boy in the nursery school, too… He also said that her golden curls look like ribbons on a Christmas present. And her eyes are as blue as the sky. That's why she asked John to buy a pale blue bathing suit which was in her elephant-shaped bag now, waiting to be put on for the first time. She ran into the kitchen where John was packing, looked at her dad urging him to pack faster. When he finished, he took Berneen's hand, left the kitchen, looked around for anything he might have forgotten to pack in and when he didn't find anything they started down the stairs.

„Bring the other bag, please, and close the door, Sherlock.", instructed as he left the room.

Sherlock looked for the keys, put the bag on his shoulder and pushed Hamish out of the door.

* * *

John hailed a cab and all four of them got in. John behind the driver with Berneen in his lap. Hamish was sitting next to them, hands tucked between his thighs. Sherlock sat next to his son and looked out of the window. The kids were talking and laughing, all excited about the slides they would try once they got there. Sherlock was sulking, and he knew John was enjoying seeing him like that. None of them spoke a word. John was listening the children who were gesturing heavily while they were telling each other about their favourite slides. John unconsciously stroke their heads a few times. He reached out and touched Sherlock's nape with the fingers of his hand. Sherlock jumped a little in his seat and looked at him. John smiled at him and winked. Sherlock rolled his eyes and John laughed a little at the sight. The rest of the drive was in complete silence.

When they got there, Sherlock paid the driver and took one bag in his hand. He held out the other and Hamish took it reluctantly. He wasn't a kid anymore! He was 10 years old after all. John took the other bag and closed the trunk of the car and tapped it twice to signal that the cabbie can drive off. Berneen grabbed his free hand and almost dragged him to the entrance. John put the bag down and lifted her up so she could see the woman sitting behind the counter.

The woman smiled at her and asked, „What can I do for you, little lady?"

„I would like to go to the slides with Daddy, Father and my brother", she said all seriously and waved her hand towards the door and then at her family.

„Alright.", smiled the woman at her. „Could you tell me how old are you?"

„I'm 4."

„And how old is you brother?"

„He's 10."

„Thank you, sweetie. I'll do the rest", said John as he kissed the girl on the cheek and put her down. He paid for the tickets and put the band on Berneen's wrist. She pushed John's tighs to make him move as he tried to pass the bands to the others. Sherlock took them and put one on John's wrist, one on Hamish's (who was rolling his eyes - not a kid anymore, thank you) and one on his.

* * *

They entered the building and headed to the changing rooms where they left their bags in a locker. John and the children went to change while Sherlock just stripped quickly. When John came out of the stall, Sherlock couldn't help staring. John's thighs were muscular and slightly tanned from spending afternoons in the park with the children. The swimsuit was covering only the most vital parts of John's body. His bulge was very pronounced and the fabric was barely above the line of John's pubic hair. His chest was broad and his hair there was curly and barely visible. His neck was deliciously twisting as he was looking down at his abdomen and tried to rearrange his light blue Speedos on his body. His hair was slightly rumpled. Sherlock swallowed loudly and hoped that their kids didn't see him like this, taking in as much of the sight of John as possible. He totally forgot how naked he felt in his own Speedos. John went to his locker and brushed Sherlock's buttocks slightly as he passed him. Sherlock just stood there trying to get his train of thoughts back on track.

„Hamish, Berneen, put your stuff in here" John told the children to put their clothes back in the bag and then locked it in the locker. Sherlock did the same with his clothes.

„Are you ready?" John looked at him mirthfully and herded all three of them out to the pools.

The sun was shining brightly after the dimness of the changing room. Families and couples were lying on the grass, eating ice creams and talking happily. John put their towels down next to a tree and unfolded a blanket. The kids sat down and John started to apply sun cream on their backs.

„Are you going to move or do you plan to stand there all afternoon?", asked John as he glanced up at Sherlock. Sherlock was looking around analyzing every movement of the people around them. John lightly touched Sherlock's calf. The light brush of fingers made him twitch a little and but he looked at him.

„Mmm?", he asked like someone who just woke up.

„I said you should sit down and let me put some cream on you before you before you turn into a lobster.", answered John and pulled Sherlock to a sitting position. „Hamish, could you inflate Berneen's armbands?"

„Sure, Dad", answered the young boy, and started doing as he was asked to while making funny faces at Berneen who was picking grass and laughing at her brother.

When he finished they started to look at the couple next to them. Hamish was deducing where they were from, what their jobs were. Berneen didn't seem too persuaded and interrupted his chain of deductions to tell him how she saw the things Hamish was mentioning.

* * *

A/N:

Beta: Alice


	2. Chapter 2

„No, sir. I told you already. You are not allowed to enter this crime scene."

The young police constable cursed the day when he volunteered to help out at a crime scene where the infamous Sherlock Holmes could be present. Everyone knew he was impossible to work with: arrogant, ignorant about human emotions and erratic. Well, no, it's not entirely true. He knew how emotions worked, he just couldn't understand _why_ they worked like they did.

„I understood your words the first time, too. I just simply do not consider them right. Where is Dimmock?" Sherlock Holmes was pacing restlessly, rubbing his glove-covered hands together and shooting death-glares at the people around him.

„DI Dimmock is not at the scene, sir." The poor boy was turning red under the consulting detective's inquisitional look.

„Oh, for heaven's sake! If he's not here, then there is no one here with a slight amount of intelligence. What are you even doing working for the police, when you are clearly unable to understand the criminal mind?" and with that he turned around, his black coat floating behind him like a wave of water.

As he was leaving he pulled his phone from his pocket and started typing out a text message, not even looking at the keys, simply just staring ahead with a piercing look in his eyes.

_Is this because of the last case? – SH_

Dimmock took 15 minutes to answer. At that time he was already in the cab on his way to home.

_What do you mean?_

_I mean that I wasn't allowed on the crime scene and you weren't there. – SH_

_Yes, it is because of last time. You screwed that up._

_I simply corrected some of the victim's family's inaccurate beliefs on after life. –SH_

_Sherlock, you shouldn't have told the parents that their daughter won't go to heaven, but will start rotting in no more than 36 hours and they need to stop acting like a child._

_But that is the scientific explanation of 'after life'. –SH_

_Thank God they were only minor characters in the business life of Britain. I can't imagine what might have happened to you – and me, too – if they were some wealthy and influential politicians._

_And Sherlock. Try to stay away from cases while we're on suspension, would you?_

Sherlock didn't even bother replying to that. He was sure Dimmock knew the answer already.

Two weeks passed and he was still punished with not being able to enter the crime scene, just as Dimmock had to leave for a week. Sherlock had no doubt he was at least a bit happy to be able to get out of London and away from him for at least a short time.

But this thought didn't help Sherlock. He was bored and he had nothing to occupy his racing mind with. Until one day a familiar black car pulled over in front of his flat. Sherlock hated this. Why did _he_ always have to be so theatrical?

* * *

There was a soft knock on the door – handle of an umbrella – and Mrs. Turner, his land lady, opened the door. There were noises of pleasant small talk and then confident feet hitting the stairs, accompanied by the sound of the tip of an expensive umbrella gently touching them.

After a few moments the door of the flat was pushed open and the umbrella tapped lightly against the floor.

"What do you want?" Sherlock barked as an invitation.

"Nice to see you in your most formal, Sherlock. I am feeling rather well, thank you for your question." The man walked into the room and sat down on the sofa.

"Mycroft, what do you want?" Sherlock sat up on the couch, pulling the dressing gown closer around himself. He wasn't wearing anything under it because of the unusually hot summer day and the last thing he wanted was to flash naked body parts at his brother.

"DI Dimmock informed me that you have been suspended – just as the DI himself. And now you're in the middle of a heat wave without anything to do. You must be bored." Sherlock couldn't stand the smug smile playing on his brother's face. He knew perfectly well how bored Sherlock was and that there was nothing else he wanted to do than work and occupy his restless mind.

"What do you want?" Sherlock was getting tired of Mycroft's game. "I know it's not just a family visit, you have an obvious reason to be here and it must be related to your work. What do you want me to do for you this time?" Sherlock cocked an eyebrow at him and flopped back on the couch.

"Have you heard of the casino and bank robberies throughout Europe?" Mycroft asked clearly fed up with beating around the bush.

"Yes, obviously. Why?" Sherlock looked at Mycroft and his eyes were gleaming. Did he seem interested? There was no point in showing Mycroft that he was intrigued or else he would be sitting there with an all-knowing smile on his pompous face.

"Well there will be a conference in Spain, in a popular holiday resort. Most of Britain's and Europe's leading businessmen will be there and –"

"And you think they might attempt to rob the casino at that hotel. Or the bank somewhere near."

"Look at you, dear brother, I haven't thought you would be this desperate. I should have come earlier." Mycroft was definitely enjoying Sherlock's misery. But Sherlock had no other choice. This was the first thing that was not boring.

"For God's sake, stop gloating, Mycroft and tell me what you want."

"I want your help. I want you to go there and help the local forces stop it."

"What makes you think I would accept a job like this?"

"Sherlock, there's no point denying it. You're bored beyond words. You need something to focus your mind on. And it would give you a chance to do undercover work. I would not want you to go there as a detective. The conference is in 9 days. You would have time to adjust and perfect your cover."

Sherlock had to admit, this job had its perks. 9 days of deceiving everyone around him, trying to hide his real self and adapting a new one for the purpose of finding the criminals there…

"If I accept this will you rub it in my face every day for the rest of my life?" Sherlock looked from the ceiling to his brother, but after he saw Mycroft tilting his head to the side and lifting an eyebrow, he started examining his long, slender fingers.

"Yes, probably. But as much as it pains me to admit, I need your help. I'm in no situation to mock you or play games, because this matter is top priority. I wouldn't have come here if I had any other choice." As he spoke, he glanced at the handle of his umbrella, at the skull on the mantel, almost everywhere but Sherlock. It was just as hard for him as it was for Sherlock. They weren't used to asking each other for help.

"Okay. I'll help, but on one condition." said Sherlock with an audible huff of disapproval in his voice. "When I'm back, I want everything to be arranged with the Yard as it was before. No matter how you do it, just do it."

Mycroft saw that Sherlock was serious about it, needed the distraction from his dull days.

"I think I can pull a few strings to make it happen." Mycroft gave his demure smile and stood up, leaning on his umbrella. "I'll send a car tomorrow at 10. Pack and be ready. Have a nice day and a pleasant journey, brother dearest." And with that he left the flat and a few moments later the front door closed behind him.

* * *

Beta: thisisforyou


	3. Chapter 3

After about 10 minutes, Berneen and Hamish started to get bored. They ate their ice creams and Hamish was no longer entertained by the conversation he had been having with his sister. Both of them started looking around to find something interesting at the same time, and both of them found different things. Berneen saw two girls, who were just about her age, playing in the sandpit that was next to a couple of benches and two shower roses to wash off the sand. Hamish saw an elder boy who had binoculars in his hands and watched – possibly – a bird on a tree that was not far away from him.

Berneen walked to the sandpit and stood there for a few minutes, just looking at the girls playing. One of the girls, a 5-year-old with long red hair, looked up at her and Berneen smiled shyly.

"Do you want to come to play with us? We're building a sand castle. We have buckets and shovels and my daddy brought water in this bucket," the red-haired girl said.

"Thanks. My name is Berneen."

"I'm Carry and this is Jenny."

"Hi, Berneen." The other girl, Jenny, smiled at her heartily. "Do you know how to build a sandcastle?"

"Yes. I have a brother and he is really good at it, and he let me help him a few times when he was playing in our yard. My Father knows a lot about physics, though I don't know what it is, but it always sounds so serious when he says it, and he showed Hamish, my brother, how to make a really huge castle. It was awesome!" Berneen's enthusiasm rubbed off on the other girls and they listened to her words with delight.

"I have a brother, too, but he doesn't like playing with me," Carry complained. "But I don't mind, because I don't want to play with him. He always does boyish things, like with catapults and wooden swords. I don't like those. And he always makes fun of me, because I love my dolls." Berneen and Jenny tsked at this last statement.

"I wish I had a brother or a sister to play with. But I don't have any siblings and my parents work a lot. But in the kindergarten I have a friend, Colin, and he is older than me and he can show me so many things. Two days ago we played hide and seek but he said that I was a lady and he was an evil renegade and wanted to catch me to get money for me. And I had to find a place to hide but I couldn't hide behind a bush because a lady wouldn't hide there. I wanted to climb a tree but I was a lady and I wasn't supposed to so I hid behind the door in the bathroom. And it took him more than 10 minutes to find me!" Jenny was gesticulating heavily and her cheeks flushed as she got more and more excited.

"Girls, stop talking and let's build a castle," Carry interrupted their excitement and started shovelling sand into their biggest bucket. Berneen took a smaller one and set to fill it, while Jenny smoothed a spot in the sandpit where the castle would stand.

* * *

Hamish was talking with the boy – Jack – about those birds whose songs they loved the best, and then Hamish explained how to recognise birds by their songs. He was so wrapped up in his reasoning that the only thing he noticed was Jack staring behind Hamish's shoulder. He turned around to look at what he was staring at and saw Berneen standing in the sandpit. There was a boy of his age talking to her and doing by her red face and glowing eyes, they were arguing. Then the boy reached out to snap the shovel from her hand but she slapped it away. The next thing Hamish realised was a bucket and two other shovels in the sand next to the boy's foot. It was clear that he wanted to play but thought that two shovels weren't enough and wanted to take the girls'. It wasn't Berneen's that she was holding, Hamish knew that, so she must have been playing with those two girls standing behind her. She just stood up for them because that was what she does; she wasn't intimidated by the older boy and his strength. Well, growing up with Hamish, it was no wonder that she knew how to handle older boys.

But the boy's next trick made Hamish's legs move without his will; he shoved Berneen in the shoulder and when she fell back, he snatched the shovel from her hand. Hamish was standing next to him within a few moments and looked him straight in the eye.

"Give it back to her," was all he said.

"Or what?" asked the boy smugly.

"Or I tell everyone that you still wet the bed in your sleep, even though you're 10," said Hamish and straightened his back to appear more intimidating.

The girls behind Berneen started giggling.

"You're lying!" the boy yelled at him and his eyes filled with tears. "Mum said that it was okay and no one will know about it just me, the doctor and them." He was crying now, waving his hands and losing control over his sobbing.

Hamish didn't want to hurt him but it seemed that he did it again. He felt ashamed that he couldn't control himself but wasn't ashamed so much as he should have been because he defended his sister and nobody gets to hurt Berneen.

The boy's mum was crouching next to her son and was hugging him now, petting his head and shooting deathly looks at Hamish. Then she abruptly stood up and pointed a finger at Hamish.

"Don't you know how to behave around people? Haven't your parents taught you what you should and should not do? What did you say to him?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned to her son and asked him. "What did this evil boy say to you?"

"He… he said…said that… that I… I still wet… wet the bed at nights," the boy stuttered and started crying again and buried his face in his mother's lap.

"How would you even know that?"

"Is there a problem here?" asked a deep voice standing behind Hamish. It was Sherlock, who observed the scene from a distance and listened to what they were saying. He understood why Hamish did what he did, but knew that John would say that he should have kept his mouth shut and think before speaking. Apparently, Hamish had as much control over his mouth as Sherlock had.

"Yes, this boy insulted my son!" The woman shouted at him and her eyes widened when Sherlock put his hand on Hamish's shoulder. Berneen ran to them and hooked her arm around Sherlock's leg. He petted her head and held her close.

"I believe there was a rather sound reason why he did that. Wasn't there, Hamish?" he asked and looked at his son.

"Yes, Father, there was. He was being aggressive with Berneen and shoved her off her feet." Hamish looked up at Sherlock and saw his dad nodding in acknowledgement.

"There. My son wouldn't hurt anyone without a reason." He could say that, Hamish was nothing like him. He wouldn't insult or humiliate anyone just because he felt like it. John taught him not to.

He looked at his daughter, and asked "Are you alright, sweetheart?"

She rubbed her face to his thigh and nodded. "Yes, Father, I am."

"It seems that it is _you_who should teach social norms to your son. A 10-year-old boy should never shove a 4-year-old girl. That is bullying, you know. And about the wetting the bed… At the age of ten, it is not normal. I can see that it may be caused by your overbearing attitude and the lack of independence in him. He is still mummy's little boy and you do whatever he wants you to do. He subconsciously knows that and that's why he wets the bed. You sleep in your room, probably at the other end of the corridor, and because you stick to him all day long, he is so used to it that he wants it even at night. And subconsciously he does the only thing that would help him; he wets the bed so you'd have to let him sleep in your bed, with you. Because you don't have anyone else to sleep in your bed, as I see."

* * *

John was coming out from the toilet when he saw the gathering at the sandpit. He couldn't miss the tall and pale figure in the centre, and the two kids clinging to him. He felt proud as he saw Sherlock absent-mindedly stroking both of the kids' head. Then he took in the woman standing in front of his husband. Her face contorted and reddened and she lifted her hand to slap Sherlock in the face.

_Oh no, you did not!_

John almost ran to them and stood next to both of them and looked from one to the other.

"What is going on here, Sherlock?" he asked but he was looking at the woman.

"This woman says Hamish doesn't know 'how to behave around other people,'" there was mocking disdain in his voice "although it is her son, who clearly doesn't know how to ask for a shovel if he wants to borrow one."

"You're a freak and your kids are, too!" She yelled and her face was purple now, her hand shaking as she was waving her finger in their direction.

Multiple things ran through John's mind after hearing this sentence. The first one was, _the kids, don't let them hear this madwoman call their father a 'freak'._And then _no, Sherlock, don't start!_And, _oh, no, it hit home for Sherlock, too._

When he processed all these, he turned to Sherlock and cupped his face with both hands.

"Sherlock, please, take the kids back to the locker rooms and help them get changed. I'll be right behind you."

"But I can –"Sherlock started.

"I know you can, love, but I fear that this woman could not handle it. Please, just do what I asked," pleaded John and planted a soft kiss on Sherlock's lips.

Sherlock blinked a few times and took the kids' hands and left to collect their blanket and bags from under the tree and went straight to the locker rooms.

John stared after them and when they were out of earshot, he turned to the woman and looked first at the boy then back at her. She understood and let the boy's hand go who ran back to their chairs. The woman opened her mouth but John cut her off.

"First thing, you don't have a right to tell me what I should teach my children." His voice was cold and full of anger. "I won't stand it and hear any more of it. Second, you don't get to call my husband a _freak_in front of our kids. I advise you to go back to your son now, who clearly suffers from your suffocating attachment, and tell him that if he wants something, next time he should ask instead of letting out his pent up frustration and impotence on a girl younger than him. _Now have a good day_." And with that, he turned on his heels and stumped after his family.


End file.
